


Broken Bones and Tattered Clothes

by Greensleeves



Category: Night at the Museum (Movies)
Genre: Jed-centric fic, M/M, Ren Faire AU, Renaissance Faires, Sexual Assault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-06-06 07:17:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6744745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Greensleeves/pseuds/Greensleeves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The gang's all here except they're in the Ren Faire business.<br/>Jedediah, a tailor working at the Royal Weaver, takes notice of a charming young performer--one of Merenkahre's Knights.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. From Afar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! This is a piece I started last summer that I never got around to finishing. I've decided now to pick it up again! Please give me feedback, because I probably won't end up completing it otherwise.  
> Night at the Museum and all recognizable characters do not belong to me. The fic title comes from the song "Run to You" by Pentatonix.

Sitting behind the money table, Jedediah glanced at his phone and gave a huff of impatience. Only fifteen minutes ‘til three o’clock. He still had ten minutes before his boss, McPhee, would let him go on break.

Jedediah looked around the tent. It was filled with renaissance-style clothing made by McPhee’s company. He ran an online store for period clothing, and during the summer months he went around the state selling his wares.

This was Jedediah’s first summer working at a faire, let alone with McPhee. They were already at the second faire of the summer--Clarksville--and despite the faire itself being situated on a plain of long dead grass, Jedediah’s enthusiasm, much like the unbearable heat, hadn’t wavered. McPhee could be a bit much at times, though.

His eyes roamed over to where Rebecca Hutman, a young woman who was also working for McPhee this summer, was helping a customer pick out a dress. Rebecca pointed to a midnight-blue silk gown, but the woman shook her head emphatically and reached toward a garish orange one.

 _Too bad,_ Jedediah mused. _The blue dress would’ve been most becoming on her._

A figure stepped into Jedediah’s line of sight.

“Excuse me?” his boss said, exasperated. “Jedediah, your mind is wandering again. Put these shirts out, if you will.” McPhee handed him a stack of men’s shirts.

Jedediah took the clothing and came out from behind the table. He laid the replacements out while refolding some untidy garments along the way.

 _It’s got to be time now,_ Jedediah thought as he laid out the last shirt. “May I leave now, sir?” Jedediah asked in his mock-English accent.

( _Texas wasn’t around during the Renaissance_ , McPhee had told him his first day.)

“Oh!” McPhee looked up from his sales record book. “Of course. Come back by 4:15.”

Jedediah was walking away before McPhee finished speaking. He exited the stifling tent into the crowds of the faire. Jedediah made his way through the masses toward the jousting field. He’d only been able to catch one of the jousting demonstrations at the last faire, and he was anxious to see another. Especially as the same group would be performing.

 _Specifically_ because the same group would be performing.

Jedediah took a seat on the bottom row of the bleachers which were, thankfully, shaded by a canopy.

A large, blonde woman dressed as a wench was talking to the crowd. “Buy a favor! Show your support for your favorite knight!” She waved about a metal ring decorated with colorful braided ribbons. “I have the green and yellow of England’s Sir Lancelot, the blue and white of France’s Lady Amélie, the purple and black of Germany’s Sir Konstantin, and the black and red of Spain’s Sir Octavio! What will it be? Show your support for your knight for only one dollar! And, as you are sitting in the Spanish section of the bleachers, why don’t you buy Sir Octavio’s favor and show him your support?”

Jedediah’s head whipped up. _Octavio! He is riding today!_

The woman selling favors took notice of this. “Ah, you must be a fan of the Sir Octavio! Tell me, young man, will you show your support for your knight and country?”

 _Your knight._ The woman’s words echoed in his head.

“I—yes.” Jedediah bent down and pulled a dollar out of his boot.

The woman took his money and handed him a red and black favor. “Here you go, sir.” She lowered her voice conspiratorially. “Octavio is a hottie, isn’t he?”

Jedediah could feel a blush slowly spreading across his face.

She winked at him before going back to selling favors.

Turning back, Jedediah regained his seat if not his composure.

Jedediah surveyed the filed. The knights were nowhere to be seem, but they must’ve been about to start because a man was going from section to section stirring up the crowd. The man sauntered toward the Spanish section from across the field. He wore dark trousers and an unbuttoned floral vest that exposed golden skin. The scarves tucked in the back of his belt swished hypnotically back and forth with the swaying of his hips as he walked. His eyes were heavily outlined with kohl giving him a wide-eyed expression like he’d just had an other-worldy experience or perhaps three espressos straight.

The man stopped in front of the bleachers and gave them a dazzling smile. He spread his arms in a welcoming gesture when he began speaking. “Are you ready to cheer on your country?”

There were a few murmurs of assent. Jedediah huzzahed.

The man put a hand to his ear. “I’m sorry, what was that? Give me a huzzah!”

“Huzzah!” Jedediah raised a fist into the air as he cheered.

The man pointed at him. “Everyone do it like him! One more time, people!”

The whole crowd cheered this time satisfying the man. He picked up a microphone from a stand before heading out into the field.

_This is it!_

“Ladies and gentlemen! Wenches and lads! And everyone in between! I am Ahkmenrah, and I am here to direct Her Majesty’s Tournament and Joust! Who’s ready?”

The crowd cheered.

Ahkmenrah smiled. “That’s good! Keep that up for here come Merenkahre’s Knights!”

The first two knights to enter the field were a young man and a knight on horseback bearing the green and yellow of England.

Ahkmenrah confirmed this. “Fighting for England today we have Sir Lancelot”--the man on horseback waved—“and Sir Nicholas!”

The English section began cheering. Jedediah distinctly thought he heard a man yell, “Go Nicky!”

“Next we have Lady Amélie and Sir Corneille fighting for France!”

The redhead on the horse waved to the crowd. Corneille planted the blue and white French standard in the ground before blowing a kiss to the French section.

Jedediah bounced his leg. _Where is he?_

Another couple took to the field. They sported the purple and black of Germany.

“Fighting for Germany, I give you Sir Konstantin and Sir Thorben!”

The knight on horseback gave a solemn nod while his older companion waved.

“And last, but certainly not least, here are the Spanish knights—Sir Octavio and Lady Serefina!”

Jedediah cheered along with the rest of the Spanish section as a man on horseback and a woman on foot entered the field bedecked in the black and red of Spain. They stopped in front of their respective section.

Jedediah’s heart was pounding, and it had nothing to do with the rowdy people around him. The handsome, dark-haired knight was smiling as if their applause had put the sun in the sky. His eyes, though, roved the crowd as if he was looking for someone he wasn’t sure would be there until—

His gaze landed on Jedediah.

Jedediah’s breath caught in his throat. _Holy cow, his eyes are gorgeous. But why--why’s he looking at me? Jedediah, you need to look away before he thinks you’re a creep._  

But he didn’t have to. Octavio broke eye contact to say something to his partner.

Before Jedediah could contemplate what that was all about, Ahkmenrah was back. “Your attention, please, ladies and gentlemen! Our lovely knights whom are riding horseback today will now take part in a friendly competition. They will ride around the perimeter of the field and attempt to collect the four hoops.” He gestured to either side of the field where four six-inch hoops could be seen hanging from poles in front of each section.  “Each hoop is worth one point. Whoever has the most points at the end is the winner! The first to ride is Sir Lancelot!”

Lancelot was at the far end of the field with his lance at the ready. He spurred his horse into action collecting only the first and second hoops.

“Good job, Sir Lancelot!” Ahkmenrah said over the cheering of the England’s supporters. “Up next, Lady Amélie!”

The redhead rode steadily to the cheers of her fans collecting one . . . two . . . three hoops. A groan escaped the crowd when she missed the last ring.

Jedediah let out his breath. He’d been sure she’d get the last one; Amélie handled her horse like she’d been born in the saddle.

Captivated, Ahkmenrah exclaimed, “Well done, Lady Amélie! Sir Konstantin, do you think you can do better?”

From the stands, Jedediah could tell that the knight had replied, but he hadn’t heard what it was due to the chant of “Germany! Germany!” coming from his supporters.

Konstantin began his circuit. He claimed one . . . two . . . three . . .

_Please miss, please miss, please miss._

. . . four hoops.

Jedediah threw up his hands in exasperation.

“Well done, Sir Konstantin!” Ahkmenrah congratulated him. “Don’t get too cozy with your lead, though. Next up, Sir Octavio!”

The Spanish section started chanting with the encouragement of the blonde woman who had been selling favors, “Spain! Spain! Spain!”

Perched on the edge of his seat, Jedediah watched Octavio collect the first and second hoops.

He kept chanting.

Octavio continued his circuit. He claimed the third ring . . .

"Spain! Spain! Spain!"

. . . as well as the fourth.

“Yes!” Jedediah pumped his first in the air as the crowd around him cheered.

After that, all of Merenkahre’s knights fought on foot. Konstantin and Octavio were pitted against each other since they had tied in the first competition. Much to Jedediah’s delight, Octavio bested his opponent in sword play, though, during the jousting on horseback afterwards, he lost to Amélie.

At the end of the demonstration, Ahkmenrah announced that the knights would be hanging around to answer any questions that the audience may have.

Jedediah left the bleachers and strode over to where the knights had gathered.

 _You can do this,_ Jedediah reassured himself. _Just tell him that you enjoyed the show, and you’d like to buy him a drink. Something like that._

He waited patiently for a few people to leave before approaching Octavio.

“H-hello.” Jedediah raised a tentative hand in greeting.

The handsome young man smiled at him. “Hello. Did you enjoy the show?”

“Yes!” he answered a little too eagerly. “I caught the show back in Brookden too.”

“Oh, really? I thought I recognized you.”

Jedediah’s heart skipped a beat. _He recognized me?_

Octavio was still talking. “Are you working here then? Or do you make a point of following Ren Faires from one location to the next?”

Jedediah wiped his sweaty palms on his trousers surreptitiously while replying. “I--um, the first one. I’m at the Royal Weaver.”

Octavio opened his mouth to respond, but he was interrupted by a lisping voice.

“Why, hello there. Aren’t you cute?”

Dueling thoughts shot through Jedediah’s head simultaneously. The first was “Wow, Konstatin is quite a bit taller than he seemed when out on the field,” and the other was “Did he just call me 'cute'?”

“Hello, Konstantin,” Octavio greeted him not sounding pleased.

Konstantin didn’t bother to respond to his fellow knight. He, instead, spoke to Jedediah. “What’s your name, darling?”

He was still reeling from being called “cute,” but Jedediah answered anyway. “Jedediah Smith.”

“Did I hear you’re working at the faire? I do hope we’ll be seeing more of each other.”

Jedediah did not not share his hopes. “I don’t think—“

“Oh, c’mon.” The older man pouted. “I’ll get out of this fatiguing armor and buy you a drink.”

Catching the attention of the German knight was not part of Jedediha’s plan, and he was not prepared to save himself from his unwanted advances. Octavio pulled Konstantin’s attention away from Jedediah, which, frankly, only made things go from bad to worse.

“Konstantin!” Octavio hissed. “Can’t you see your making him uncomfortable?”

The other knight rolled his eyes. “Don’t be such a mother hen, Octavio.”

Octavio bristled, his hands clenched into fists.

Eyes narrowed, Konstantin stared at Octavio, silently daring him to make a move.

A trickle of sweat rolled down Jedediah’s back. _What is up with these two?_

Suddenly, a smile broke out across Octavio’s face. An older man (Sir Thorben, if Jedediah remembered correctly) had walked up behind Konstantin during the face off.

“Hello, Sir Thorben.”

Thorben nodded his head at Octavio. “Konstantin, I need to talk to you.”

He then turned around and walked off.

After winking at Jedediah, Konstantin followed.

Jedediah watched him go with a sickening feeling settling in the pit of his stomach. The faire wasn’t that big; they were sure to run into one another again.

Then again, that meant that he’d probably run into Octavio too if fate was with him.

Octavio spoke once Konstantin was out of earshot. “Sorry about that. Konstantin’s a massive flirt and couldn’t take a hint if it slapped him across the face.” He paused thoughtfully for a second. “He did get slapped once. It took him a couple of days to register it.”  

Jedediah laughed causing the dark-haired man to smile.

"Can I buy you drink, Octavio? I’ve still got awhile before McPhee expects me back.”

The knight shook his head sadly. “I really should go now,” he told Jedediah. “I need to help Serafina get ol’ Rexy groomed and such.”

Crestfallen, Jedediah hunched his shoulders. “I understand.”

Octavio tilted his head. “Would you be willing to watch the special performance at the High Sea’s Stage with me tonight instead? It’s going to be _Pirates: A Professional Production._ ”

Jedediah was taken by surprise and spoke without thinking. “Are you asking me out, Laredo?”

The knight held up his hands. “Yes, if you want to. No, you if don’t.”

Jedediah pretended to be contemplating this decision. Of course he’d say yes, but he didn’t want to seem too eager. “When does the show start?”

Octavio’s face lit up like it had before the demonstration. “Nine o’clock.”

Jedediah grinned. “I’ll see you there.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading the first chapter! Please give me your thoughts! Thank you!!  
> P.S. The whole name thing will be explained shortly. :)


	2. Professional Pirates

Jedediah practically skipped back to the Royal Weaver. He just couldn’t hide his delight. He was going to watch _Pirates: A Professional Production_ with Octavio _._ Jedediah wasn’t sure what the show was, but he really didn’t care.

His coworker, Rebecca, took notice of Jedediah’s excited atmosphere as soon as he entered the tent. She beckoned him over to the money table so she could speak to him.

“So? Did you talk to him?” Her eyes shined with amusement.

“Yes!” Jedediah grinned. “We’re going to see _Pirates: A Professional Production_ tonight!”

Rebecca clapped her hands together. “Oh, I’ve seen that! It’s very well done.” She returned to the subject of the man Jedediah would be meeting that night. “Did you get his real name?”

Jedediah felt like kicking himself. “Dammit, I knew I forgot something.”

Rebecca stifled a laugh. “Remember to ask him tonight. Now get behind the counter before McPhee sees you and throws a fit.”

~*~

The afternoon transitioned into evening and then into night. Jedediah wondered if Octavio would expect him to be in costume. He’d already changed after the main faire shut down, though, and he decided just to go in his blue jeans and t-shirt.

Jedediah left his tent and walked toward the empty faire ground. The Clarksville faire was one of the few faires Jedediah knew of that held evening performances after closing for its adult participants. He’d never been to one of the night shows as he’d typically come earlier in the day when he was just a patron, and since he’d been working for McPhee, he was usually busy mending a garment or was just too fatigued to attend.

The man at the gate checked his ID and took his cash before pointing him toward the appropriate stage. A couple of tables had been set up behind the audience’s seating, and a man was selling refreshments.

Jedediah passed the tables and checked his watch. It was a few minutes to nine. He looked around wondering if Octavio was there yet or if he should grab a couple of seats.

“There you are!”

Jedediah practically jumped.

_Oh, thank goodness._

Octavio was wearing street clothes—a black pair of skinny jeans that hid absolutely nothing and a crimson polo shirt. It struck Jedediah that he was wearing the same colors as he had during the jousting demonstration.

Jedediah made a comment on this fact before he could stop himself. “You just can’t get away from your knightly colors, can you?”

Octavio looked down at his clothes in surprise. “I hadn’t noticed, actually.” He looked back up at Jedediah. “I was worried that you weren’t going to show up! Would you like some cider?”

Jedediah answered that he would, and Octavio went and bought a couple of drinks. Jedediah felt guilty about letting him pay for his, but Octavio insisted.

Octavio held out a glass. “I hope you like it.”

Jedediah took the proffered beverage from Octavio. “Thanks.”   

Octavio nodded. “We should go sit; the show’s about to start.”

They found a couple of seats in a middle section. Jedediah took a sip of his cider and spoke. “I forgot to ask you this earlier, but, er, what’s your real name?”

Octavio laughed. “Octavius. And my family’s from Italy, not Spain.”

Jedediah had figured he wasn’t Spanish, but _Octavius_? “Are you serious? Is that how you got your stage name?”

Octavio—no, _Octavius_ —put a hand to his chest in mock offense. “Of course! All of our names at least start with the first letter of our real names. Except Lancelot and Nicholas. Those are their real names. Though, they usually go by nicknames.”

Jedediah stared at him.

“It really isn’t _that_ strange.”

Jedediah cracked a smile. “Of course not.” He was in the theatre business himself, and, truthfully, he’d heard plenty of unusual names.

Octavius pursed his lips and changed the topic. “Have you seen _Pirates: A Professional Production_ before?”

“No. My friend, Rebecca, seems to think they’re good, though. Have you?”

Octavius shook his head. “I’ve heard them sing—my jousting partner, Sacagawea, owns one of their CDs—but I’ve never seen their actual performance.”

A microphone screeched causing Jedediah to press his free hand against his left ear. Octavio nearly spilled his drink on the people sitting in front of them.

A man clad as a buccaneer appeared on stage. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Please silence all noise making devices for the sake of your fellow audience members. And for the performers’ sanity.”

People shifted about in their seats taking heed of the man’s instructions, and the show began.

~*~

“Well,” Octavius asked Jedediah after they’d stopped clapping, “what did you think of it?”

“It was great!” It truly was one of the best shows he had seen in his many years of attending renaissance festivals. It contained the normal ren faire humor (meaning it was full of references to modern media and had a fair share of innuendos), but it was more dramatic than Jedediah was used to seeing. “Thanks for inviting me.”

Octavius ducked his head. “You’re welcome.”

Jedediah studied his companion. Was he blushing?

Nah, it must’ve just been a trick of the light.

Octavius cleared his throat. “You’re staying at the faire, right? Should we head back?”

“I reckon so.”

They returned their glasses to the cider vendor and left the High Sea’s Stage. It was a warm night with barely a breeze and crickets and cicadas could be heard buzzing about. It was a perfect night, Jedediah thought, to be out walking. Especially with the person you liked.

“How’d you get involved with the faire, Jedediah?” Octavius inquired.

“My family came every year when I was a child. Mom made my little sister and I costumes for the faire until she taught me to sew, then _I_ ended up making them.” A smile flickered across Jedediah’s face as memories of him frustratedly trying to operate his mom’s Singer sewing machine in fifth grade surfaced in his mind. “I graduated from college with a degree in theatre costume design, and, naturally, I ended up back where I started.”

“You work full time for a clothing company then?” Octavius asked curiously.

“Oh, no! I work as an assistant costume designer at a theatre. I’m only working for McPhee right now because he needed an extra tailor on hand while doing the faire circuit. Costumers aren’t needed much at the theatre in the summer, so I got sent along with him.”

“Ah.”

Jedediah wondered what he meant by “ah,” but he didn’t ask him to elaborate.

“How’d you get involved, then? Always wanted to be a knight in shining armor?”

Octavius chuckled softly. “No. My family might disagree though. I’ve ridden for years, and Teddy—the older gentleman who rides for Germany—approached me one day after watching me ride. The group was looking for a new performer since Ahkmenrah had gotten injured. We may be called Merenkahre’s Knights, but Teddy’s the one in charge of practices and deciding who we all will be fighting at what faire.”

“Ahkmenrah hosts the demonstrations, doesn’t he?” Jedediah asked thinking of the man with all the scarves.

“Yeah, he took that up after the doctor told him he shouldn’t ride anymore.” His tone held a note of bitterness.

“Did he have an accident during a show or something?”

“No one believes it was an accident,” Octavius said coldly, “except his parents, Shepseheret and Merenkahre, that is. During practice one day, his brother, Kahmunrah—you know him as Sir Konstantin—struck him in the ribs with his lance after Ahkmenrah accidently dropped his shield. It knocked him clean out of his saddle. Ahk’s lucky he didn’t get trampled by his horse.”

Man . . . from what Jedediah had seen that afternoon, he wouldn’t have pegged Kahmunrah as violent. Goofy and overly flirtatious? Yes. But violent? No.

“Why’s he still allowed to joust? Didn’t Teddy tell them what had happened?”

“Oh, he did,” Octavius replied, “but Kah had gotten there first and told them his version of the story. Being their son, they took his word over Teddy’s.”

They’d reached the area where the merchants and performers had pitched their tents. The two young men weaved their way between the nylon structures speaking more softly so as to not disturb any of the occupants.

“Was Ahkmenrah upset that they let him stay on the team?” Jedediah queried.

Octavius shrugged. “We asked him, of course, but he figured there was no reason to make a fuss about it. They’ve never like each other much, but Ahk tries to keep the peace.”

“That’s mighty big of— _aah_!” Jedediah’s sentence was cut off with a screech of surprise. He had tripped on a support rope of someone’s tent. He flailed his arms and caught Octavius’ hand. Octavius hauled him back upright and snuck an arm around his waist.

Jedediah’ heart pounded. Would Octavius think he was a klutz? Would the person in the tent confront them? Could he get away with holding Octavius’ hand until they went their separate ways?

“What’s going on out there?” a female voice called from inside the tent.

_Well, that answers number two._

Unsurprisingly really, Octavius knew the owner of the tent. “Everything’s fine, Amelia!”

“Octavius!” The woman began unzipping her tent’s door. “How’d your date--” The redhead stopped speaking when she saw Jedediah and smiled instead. “Hello, there! You’re Jedediah, right?”

“Yeah, that’s me.” Jedediah reluctantly let go of Octavius’ hand, though the other man kept his arm around Jedediah’s waist.

Amelia got up off her knees and stuck a hand out to Jedediah. “It’s a pleasure to meet you! I’m Amelia.”

As they shook hands, Octavius said, “Amelia here is one of our French knights.”

“I saw this afternoon’s show; you sure ride well, ma’am,” Jedediah complimented her.

“That’s very sweet of you, Jedediah! But it was nothing, really.” She tried to sound humble, but it was obvious that Jedediah’s compliment had pleased her.

Octavius leaned toward Jedediah and whispered loud enough for Amelia to hear, “She’s the best rider we have except Teddy himself.”

The young woman nodded her head swiftly. “As I should be; he was my instructor when I was a little girl.”

“He taught Ahk and Kah, and you know where _they’ve_ ended up,” Octavius replied.

“Point taken.” The redhead pressed a hand to her mouth stifling a yawn. “I think it’s time for me to retire. Good night, boys.”

“Good night, Amelia.”

“Nice meeting you.”

Amelia disappeared into her tent.

Octavius gestured with his head for Jedediah to follow him a couple rows away from Amelia’s tent. “Do you know where your spot is?”

Jedediah looked around in the quickly fading light. “I think . . . I’m that way.” He pointed to the north.

Octavius removed his arm from around his date’s waist and the two began walking silently between the rows of tents. Jedediah’s hand brushed Octavius’. Octavius glanced sideways at him but said nothing.

They came upon a small blue tent. Jedediah kept his voice low as he spoke, “This is mine. Thanks again for asking me out.”

Octavius cracked a small smile and hummed, “You’re welcome."

A fog seemed to take over Jedediah’s mind making it difficult to think. He could tell, for instance, that Octavius had stepped closer to him, but he couldn’t figure out why.

Jedediah cleared his throat. “Could we go out again sometime, do you think?”

“I would like that very much.” Octavius swiftly took one of Jedediah's hands and raised it to his lips. “Good night, Jedediah.”

“Good--good night, Octavius,” Jedediah stammered taking back his hand.

With an almost unperceivable bow, Octavius left a quickly flushing Jedediah in front of his tent wondering how he would ever get to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading chapter two! :)


	3. In the Dark

_The apprentice’s hands flew over the loom, back and forth, over and under, the warp and weft of golden thread coming together to make fabric fit for royalty. He finished off the end of the fabric and began removing it from the loom._

_There was still much more work to be done. Much more._

_The young man went to the back of the store to where the supplies were kept. He quickly found what he needed: his master’s best thread and the apprentice’s best needles._

_He came back into the front of the shop and began his work. He meticulously measured and cut the silk into the proper shapes with a pair of silver scissors. Once he finished cutting, he pinned to fabric to form a tunic to fit measurements that had been hammered into his mind from assisting his master. The apprentice threaded his needle and started what would be his first creation for the crown prince._

_His calloused fingers glided over the fabric, creating tiny stitches that would be required to hold this piece together through tedious life at the castle. The thought scared him—if the garment did not hold up, both he and his master, would be to blame. Though the crown prince was known for his kindness, the king was not._

_Distracted, the apprentice allowed his finger to be pricked by the needle. Not a sound escaped him, though. It had happened too many times in the past for it to warrant any surprise. He held his finger up to the dim light to watch a spot of blood appear there. He carefully set aside the garment to make sure it was not soiled (his master was not forgiving either)._

_He searched through a basket of scrap fabric to bandage his finger with to prevent his precious article from being dirtied. Once he was sure it was safe, he continued._

_It wasn’t until the next day that he was able to start the intricate task of embroidering the tunic. He got out his master’s most prized purple, emerald, and turquoise thread and his embroidery needles and got to work. He created a marvelous peacock with its feathers fanned out on the back of the garment. All edges of the garment were finished with circles like that on the peacock’s feathers._

_The apprentice sat back and looked at his work. It was beautiful, but surely something was missing. . . ._

_He racked his brain for what it could possibly being and shook his head._

_After retrieving the proper thread, he sewed the royal family’s crest on the front of the garment._

_Wadjet._

_Praesidium oculus._

_**The protecting eye.** _

_It was done._

_The apprentice looked up from his creation to his master. His master was telling him that the garment must make it to the palace unharmed, or there would be serious consequences._

_The young man nodded. This would also be his first time to deliver clothes to the crown prince on his own, and he didn’t want his master to regret his decision . . . if he didn’t already regret allowing the young man to make something the crown prince was going to wear._

_With an impatient huff, his master held open the door for him, and the apprentice was off._

_Many times he had walked the path from the shop, through the heart of the market, and to the gate that lead to the towering castle. On his way, he would pass vendors selling freshly roasted meat, apothecaries selling remedies for everything from a sore throat to infertility, and more. So much more. Dogs would be rummaging through cast off and rotten food, children would be tugging at their mother’s skirts, and above it all would be the sound of people trying to get the best price possible for whatever they happened to be purchasing that day._

_He had been following the familiar path to the castle for several minutes when he reached the market place. It was here that he realized something was wrong. Terribly wrong. The apprentice paused in the middle of the street to look about. Not a soul was out haggling for goods. No meat could be smelled roasting on a nearby spit. Not even a small child could be heard crying for its mother._

_The young man’s heart pounded in his chest. Where he was standing, he should have been surrounded by people bustling about. But there was no one but himself._

_The only reason for this could be—but no. It couldn’t be. The knights had killed all of the beasts years ago. There weren’t any left within the five kingdoms._

_Then he heard it. The sensitive hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as the rushing of wind met his ears. Following that, he heard guttural roar of an ancient creature the apprentice had hoped he would never have the displeasure of meeting in his short mortal life._

_Apep._

_Draco._

_**Dragon.** _

_The shadow of a large, winged creature passing over him was enough incentive for him to run. He looked left to right trying to find a place to hide, but the buildings seemed to have melded together, and he couldn’t spot a single door or window in any of them. He kept running as the dragon let out another roar. He felt the rush of air under its wings this time as it dove toward him. The apprentice hit the ground and let the precious garment tumble from his grasp. He frantically prayed that the beast would make his demise swift._

_The end didn’t come, though._

_A blur of crimson cloth and silver chainmail leapt into the apprentice’s field of vision and began battling the ferocious beast. It took no more than a second for him to realize that the king’s knights must have been posted around the city to protect its inhabitants from the creature._

_He looked on as the knight and the dragon performed a death-defying dance. The knight slashed and stabbed with his sword while the dragon attempted to crush him beneath his giant, scaly feet. The beast reared its mighty head in preparation to roast the knight alive._

_The apprentice’s breath hitched in his throat. Instead of just him, they both would die that day._

_The knight, however, drew back his arm and threw his sword into the dragon’s mouth before the beast could ignite its flame. The beast let out a tremendous roar and landed back on the ground with an earth-shattering thud._

_The apprentice watched as his savior stood there staring at the creature he’d just killed as if rooted to the spot. He was about to call out when the knight suddenly strode over to the dragon and pulled his sword out from its mouth. He wiped the blood and saliva on his cloak before sheaving the weapon._

_The apprentice warily picked up the garment he had so carefully protected from a pinprick of blood just the day before. He brushed it off, his heart still pounding in his chest from the attack. After he’d composed himself, the apprentice asked if the knight might remove his helmet to give him the satisfaction of knowing who saved him._

_The knight pulled off his helmet and tucked it beneath his sword arm. He turned around slowly and the apprentice just caught a glimpse of a striking profile before the thought-to-be-dead dragon let out a cry of pain and swept its tail at the knight._

_Someone was yelling, they’re voice full of pain they didn’t understand._

_The apprentice didn’t realize it was he who was yelling until he reached the fallen knight’s side and it went from yelling to quickly muttered petitions to anyone or anything that would listen. He knelt in the street and pulled the knight into his lap. Tears stung his eyes as he looked upon the face that had saved him perhaps at the cost of their own life._

_He was young, perhaps his own age. Blood trickled across his face from a cut on his cheek and more was spilling out from a lesion on the back of his head where he had hit the ground. Dark brown curls wet with sweat fell across his forehead. The apprentice used the tunic he was supposed to deliver to the palace to wipe away the grime on his savior’s olive skin and then placed it behind his head. He wondered just how long the knight had spent training for a day like this._

_Fearing the worst, he felt for the tell-tale signs of life._

_No breath._

_No heart-beat._

_The knight had died in his arms._

_A sudden chill ran down his spine causing him to shiver. He looked up from the lifeless man to see that a damp mist had rolled into the street. He couldn’t make out the buildings around him or even the large dragon carcass less than a man’s height away._

_The apprentice’s brow furrowed. They weren’t obscured—the buildings and the dragon had dissipated into the mist that now surrounded him and the fallen knight._

_**The knight.** _

_He glanced back down, but the knight—he savior—was inexplicably gone._

_The mist was curling into his lap, and he staggered to his feet suddenly on his guard._

_**He’s gone,** something whispered. **He’s gone.** _

_The apprentice turned slowly in a circle in an attempt to locate the voice that seemed to reverberate around him even as the mist continued to spiral up his legs._

_**He can’t be,** he replied, his mouth feeling like it was full of wool._

_The disembodied voice laughed, and the apprentice realized that the voice was coming from the mist itself._

**_He is,_ ** _it sneered._

_The mist had reached his neck and was now wrapping itself around his head and filled his mouth, ears, and nose. He struggled for air as the voice continued to taunt him._

_**He was never here.** _

~*~

Jedediah awoke with a start, his breathing ragged.

Where was he?

Why was his phone going off while it was still dark out?

_Oh._

Jedediah pried a light-weight blanket off his face and gulped in fresh air.

 _How did_ that _end up wrapped around my face?_ he wondered blearily as he unzipped his sleeping bag.

After withdrawing from his warm cocoon, he fumbled around in the early morning light for his phone to stop the horrendous generic alarm that was blaring from it.

Once the alarm was silenced, Jedediah sat back down on top of his sleeping bag and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. What had he been dreaming about? He struggled to recall the details of his dream but it was already disappearing like mist on a summer’s morning.

Jedediah shook his head with a sigh. It’s not like a dream was anything important.

He looked about him and grabbed his neatly folded costume he had set out the night before and changed. Now properly dressed, he clambered out his tent to find Rebecca and start the day.

Bright sunshine and the smell of coffee greeted Jedediah. The sun was almost as good as caffeine was at waking him up--after being blinded as he was, there was no way he would be able to fall back asleep until the heat of the day wore him out.

Jedediah walked over to where Rebecca had set up a camp stove and made himself a cup of coffee. They exchanged pleasantries, neither one being the type for small talk while tired.

Rebecca soon went off to find a restroom leaving her coworker to his own devices. Jedediah was debating whether he wanted to go through the trouble of making eggs when his was forced out of his serious contemplation.

“Good morning, sunshine,” an oily voice that had no right to sound so awake at the ungodly hour broke into his thoughts.

Jedediah gritted his teeth and pretended not to hear.

“What? You’re not evening going to say ‘good morning’ back?” The pout Kahmunrah was surely making was practically recognizable in his voice.

Kahmunrah had refused to leave Jedediah alone during the previous week. Jedediah had been taken off guard when he first met him--really, he'd come on strong--but now he was just annoyed.

Jedediah turned around and looked him straight in the eyes as he spoke. “Leave me alone, Kahmunrah.”

Kahmunrah stepped closer to him, but Jedediah didn’t break eye-contact. A smile dangled at the corner of his lips as he reached for Jedediah’s hand. Jedediah pulled his hand out of Kahmunrah’s reach and wrinkled his nose.

Unfortunately, Kahmunrah seemed unfazed.   

“You should go out with me to dinner tonight. I know a good place in town.”

The muscles in Jedediah’s face tightened. “ _No_.”

He tried hard not to think about the fact that what Kahmunrah had just said was very similar to what Jedediah was planning on asking Octavious later that day after the tournament.

A dark shadow flitted across Kahmunrah’s face; Jedediah wondered briefly if things were about to get physical. At that precise moment, however, Rebecca decided to show up. She looked between the two men. “Hey.”

Kahmunrah tilted his head at Jedediah. “Think about it.”

Rebecca and Jedediah watched him walk away.

“What was that about?” she asked.

Jedediah ran a hand through his hair. “A man that doesn’t understand the meaning of the word ‘no.’”

Rebecca nodded her head, and Jedediah was certain she required no other explanation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So.  
> That took more time to update than I had anticipated.  
> Thank you so much to all of you who have been reading and leaving kudos and comments! It really does mean a lot to me as otherwise I have no idea how the piece is being received. I am currently writing chapter four, so it shouldn't take two months to update again.
> 
> EDIT AS OF NOVEMBER 8:  
> Hey, guys! This fic is going on hiatus. I don't know when it will get updated next. Sorry about that.


	4. Prisoner of Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've just started reading this fic, yay! I'm glad you're here. :)  
> If you've been waiting for this chapter, I'm so sorry. Please see my note on the previous chapter.  
> This chapter is a bit shorter than I would have liked it to be, but y'all deserved an update.

“It’s a tradition!” Napoleon had told him. And told him. _And told him_ between the taunts he threw at him to entertain passerbys.

Jedediah sighed and rested his forehead against the metal bars of the jail. McPhee was not going to be happy if Jedediah didn’t get back to work in the next ten minutes.

The situation Jedediah had landed himself in was by no means his fault. They jail keepers made it their solemn duty to “initiate” new workers by placing them in the jail at each faire, and then taunting them to their hearts content. How long you spent in jail directly correlated with how much they disliked you.

Jedediah had escaped the Brookden faire and the previous weekend of the Clarksville faire without them catching him, strangely enough, but it figured he would have no such luck today.

 _Specifically_ today because he had planned on meeting Octavius after the tournament.

Instead, Napoleon had jumped him on his way to the arena.

_"It’s your turn, Jedediah,” the short man said with a wicked grin, his voice laced with a strong French accent._

_“Look, Napoleon,” Jedediah replied sharply, “I’m busy.”_

_Jedediah turned on his heel and began walking away briskly. The jailor barked an order at his cronies._

_Jedediah glanced backwards in time to see the two other men, Al and Ivan, if he remembered correctly, catch up to him. They grabbed his arms._

_"Oh, come on,” he muttered, exasperated._

_“There, there, little minnow. Everyone else had to go through this too,” the younger of the men—Al—crooned as the two began marching Jedediah back to the jail._

_Jedediah tried to wrench his arms away from the two men. “Fine, but I don’t like to be manhandled!” he spat, his Texan accent making its way back into his voice._

_"Have it your way, pumpion,” Al said he and Ivan releasing his arms._

_Jedediah rubbed the spot where Al’s hand had crushed his arm. He regained his fake accent as they were drawing curious glances and asked, “Do you even know what that means?”_

_Ivan spoke at last. “It does not matter. Into the cell with you.”_

Jedediah pushed himself off the bars and took a seat on the rickety three-legged stool in the corner of the cell. That had all taken place nearly an hour ago. Jedediah was supposed to be back at the Royal Weaver before four o’clock rolled around.   

He scrubbed his face with his hand and then leaned forward on his arms.

“Am I fit to be released, yet?” he queried.

Napoleon looked him up and down. “No.”

Jedediah muttered a colorful curse under his breath.

Napoleon turned back to him. “What was that?”

An idea sprang to life in Jedediah’s mind. He looked the jailer in the eye. “Thou art a fool.”

“Would thou like to change that?”

Jedediah stood up and walked to the jail door. “No, I don’t think I do.”

The Frenchman grabbed the keys from besides the door and aggressively unlocked the cell. “Out.”

“Why thank you—“

He stopped when a rapier was thrust into his hands. Jedediah raised an eyebrow.

“If you are so eager to leave, you may. But you need to get past me. If you do not, back into the cell you go.”

Jedediah rolled his eyes. Why did the faire have to make everyone so theatrical?

“All right, then. Normal rules? Whoever strikes first is the winner?”

“ _Oui_.”

Jedediah bounced on the balls of his feet. The only time he had ever fenced with anyone was for a production back in college. He wasn’t trying to actually beat the other person in competition then. It’s not as if his day could get any worse by losing though. The day had been a waste considering he was supposed to meet Octavius ten minutes ago—

“Jedediah!”

Jedediah’s head turned in the direction of the voice. Octavius was striding their way, his cape billowing out behind him. The Texan let out another muttered curse. Of course Octavius would show up the moment he was about to get taken down in a duel.

Napoleon took Jedediah’s momentary distraction to lounge. Jedediah barely moved out of the way in time. Jedediah went on the defensive as he blocked another one of Napoleon’s jabs.

“Jedediah, what is going on?” Octavius asked as he took in the scene before him.           

Jedediah forced Napoleon’s sword up. He thrust the rapier toward Napoleon’s chest. Unfortunately, Napoleon was quick enough to move out of the way.

“Dueling!” Jedediah yelled over his shoulder.

“I can see that, Master Obvious. _Why_ , pray tell, are you dueling? Amelia was even wondering where you were.”

Jedediah shook his sweaty bangs from his eyes and parried. It wasn’t clean and he stumbled slightly to the right, causing Napoleon to just barely miss his left arm.

“Was locked up. Couldn’t make it.”

There was no response from Octavius as Jedediah found an opening in Napoleon’s defenses and hit him on the arm.

Jedediah lowered his sword breathing hard. “Dost thou yield?”

Napolean shot him a look of admiration mixed with contempt. “ _Oui_ , I yield.”

Jedediah handed him the sword and turned to Octavius. He was standing with his arm folded across his chest, a slight frown on his handsome face.

“I didn’t know you knew how to fence.”

Jedediah scratched the back of his neck. “I performed as a fencer in a production once.”

Octavius unfolded his arms. “Is this the first time you’ve been locked up by Napoleon’s gang?”

“Yes.”

Octavius eyes widened. “And you decided to duel?”

“Don’t you know what it’s like to be trapped in there for so long, having all these people gawking at you?”

Octavius shook his head. “Actually, no. They don’t tend to mess with the knights.”

A moment of silence passed between them as Jedediah contemplated how much McPhee was going to yell at him for coming back late. He was about to say goodbye when Octavius spoke.

“How would you like to go out for dinner tonight?”

Jedediah smiled. “That would be great.”

“Five thirty?”

“I’ll meet you by the gate.”

Before Jedediah could process what was happening, Octavius had placed a light kiss on his cheek.

“See you tonight.”

~*~

Jedediah unzipped his tent door and listened to the sound of Octavius’s retreating footsteps. He could hardly believe the evening he had just had. He entered his tent and started to get ready to sleep.

“Jedediah!”

Jedediah looked up from where he was unbuttoning his shirt.

“I know you can hear me.”

The Texan chuckled. “What is it, Rebecca?”

His coworker’s tent was located right next to his, and as nylon was not soundproof in any way, shape, or form, it was quite easy to hold a conversation while in a different tent.

“How’d your date go with Octavius?” she asked.

“It went really well.” Jedediah couldn’t keep a ridiculously large smile off his face. He felt like a little kid at a sleepover gossiping about crushes.

“How well, is ‘really well’?”

“We’re together.”

Jedediah heard her clap her hands together. “Are you serious?!”

Neither of them said a word as someone from a nearby tent yelled at Rebecca to keep her voice down.

 “You’re going steady?” she asked, quieter this time.

“Yeah.”

“Did he ask?”

“No, I did.” Though she couldn’t see it, Jedediah’s face was now the exact shade of crimson as Octavius’s knightly cape.

“You did? I thought you weren’t the forward type.”

Jedediah’s mind shot back to earlier that evening. He had meant to be suave, but he’d tripped over his own feet on the way out of the restaurant and Octavius had caught his arm. Of all the moments to ask someone to be your partner, that was probably most one of the top ten.

_That was graceful,” Octavius teased. “Are you all right?”_

_“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine,” he said dismissively though he knew the heat spreading across his face said otherwise._

_Octavius was still holding onto his arm. Jedediah cleared his throat._

It’s now or never, _he thought, trying to boost his confidence._

_He looked up at Octavius’s brown eyes. “Would you be my steady?”_

_Octavius smiled. “Of course! I was planning to ask you tonight, as a matter of fact.”_

“I, er, decided that Octavius was too good to let get away do to complacency,” he said to Rebecca.

Rebecca lowered her voice even further, “Did you kiss him?”

_Jedediah hesitated just a moment before brushing a stray curl behind Octavius’s ear. It was a totally cliché move, but he couldn’t help it. “May I?”_

_Octavius removed his right hand from Jedediah’s arm to wrap his arms around his waist. “You may.”_

“Now, then, a gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell.” Yes, this was exactly like gossiping at a sleepover.

_Jedediah rose ever so slightly onto his toes as he cupped Octavius’s face with his hands. Octavius tilted his head, and Jedediah closed his eyes. Every nerve in his body felt electrified. Octavius’s lips were soft against his own, and Jedediah picked up a hint of the spumoni ice cream Octavius had had for dessert._

“You did!” Rebecca practically squealed. “I’m so happy for you Jedediah.”

He cracked a smile. “Thanks, Rebecca. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“See you tomorrow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter four and they finally kissed. :) I hope you're happy.  
> Until the next chapter! *salutes*


	5. A Devil, Not A Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE READ: As of March 24, chapter three has been updated with a bit more added to the end after the dream. You'll want to read that before continuing on. It may also be advisable to reread the very beginning of chapters one and four as the time-line got straightened out then (faire towns and such).  
> ALSO IMPORTANT: The trigger warning "sexual assault" is for this chapter! I've never needed to point something like this out before in my writing, so if I need to provide you with more details before you decide to read the chapter or not, you can message me at my tumblr, greensleeves-archive. Stay safe, friends!

It was seven o’clock and still sweltering as midday.

The faire had finished up its last day at Clarksville, for which Jedediah was thankful. They’d since packed up and moved onto Toulon. Compared to Clarksville, Toulon was a veritable paradise because of its abundance of towering trees that shaded the entire makeshift village, not to mention the river that cut through the back part of the faire behind where the mud eaters performed.  

Jedediah made his way to where Octavius was assisting with setting up an area for the horses to pasture. The land he and Amelia were sectioning off was far enough away from the faire that the noise wouldn’t bother the horses when they weren’t performing.

Jedediah stuck his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “Need a hand, partner?”

Octavius planted a stake in the ground and looked up. “Oh, hello, Jed!”

Amelia waved from the other end of the makeshift fence. Jedediah waved back before turning back to his partner. “Hey, Ockie. How was the trip?”

Octavius straightened up. “Fine, just fine. It was Ahk’s turn to drive, which meant that he had the privilege of choosing the music we listened to while traveling.” Octavius closed his eyes. “It was Earth, Wind, and Fire for the whole _two hundred_ miles.”

Jedediah snorted. “Didn’t anyone else object?”

Octavius shook his head. “No, no—I was the only other person in the car. For the most part we travel in pairs. And thank goodness for that; riding in the same car as Kah and Ivan is not something you wish to experience. Anyway, you can only fit so much stuff in one car. . . .” Octavius wiped a hand across his brow. “Though, I wish we needn’t put this fence up tonight. It’s absolutely scorching out here, even in the shade.”

“We could hop in the river,” Jedediah suggested.

“That’s a fine idea. Once Amelia and I are done here--” he waved a hand toward the makeshift fencing “—I’ll meet you upstream.”   

Jedediah went on his way, silently thankful that he could retreat to the river. Prior to searching out Octavius, he’d helped set up McPhee’s tent with McPhee and Rebecca. She then had left the faire until the next day as she actually lived in Toulon.  

Jedediah followed the river through the faire casually watching the people still putting up tents and others who’d finished and were refreshing themselves with whatever means they desired. He wandered out of the faire and continued upstream until he found himself far enough away for his liking.

Fanning himself with his hat, Jedediah sank down under a cottonwood tree that was growing next to the river. He eyed the rushing water wistfully.

With a shrug, Jedediah pulled off his boots and socks and rolled up his pants. He waded into the river up to his mid-calves and sighed at the sweet relief of the cold water.

Jedediah’s mind drifted off, day-dreaming about Octavius and what they were going to do after the summer ended. Jedediah lived awfully close to Brookden, the site of the first faire, and he was sure that Merenkahre’s Knights practiced at a stables on the outskirts of a nearby town, so maybe Octavius lived near Brookden as well? Jedediah would have to ask him.

The crunch of dead grass met Jedediah’s ears. A grin broke across his face as he turned to face Octavius.

“Hey—“ Jedediah cut himself off.

The person he’d mistaken for Ocatvius was none other than Kahmunrah. The man was staggering slightly and was making his way toward Jedediah, though the Texan wasn’t too sure the other man had even heard him call out.

Whether or not Kahmunrah had heard him made no difference as he caught sight of Jedediah on his own. “Oh, hello, darling. Fancy—“ Kahmunrah hiccupped “—fancy meeting you here.”

_Nope, I am not in the mood to deal with ol’ ramen noodle._

Jedediah’s eyes flicked from Kahmunrah to the other side of the river. It was at least thirty more feet to the other side and judging by the change in color, it got fairly deep.

 _Not gettin’ out that way, then,_ he thought, resigned.

Jedediah pulled himself up to his full height and walked out of the river. He bent down to pick up his discarded socks and boots from under the cottonwood and was met, unfortunately, by the face of Kahmunrah when he straightened up. Taken by surprise, Jedediah backed up a couple of steps.

 _“Don’t do that!”_ he exclaimed.

Kahmunrah giggled at his outburst. “Isn’t it a lovely evening? Perfect for two lovers?” Kahmunrah leaned into Jedediah’s face, and he nearly gagged at the smell of alcohol on his breath.

Jedediah backed up another step to relieve himself of the stench. The trunk of the cottonwood tree met his back.

He forced his voice to be level. “I reckon so, but there ain’t no lovers around.”

Jedediah attempted to sidestep around Kahmunrah, but he blocked Jedediah’s path with an outstretched arm. He pouted.

“What about us?” Kahmunrah whined. He placed both hands on the tree effectively trapping Jedediah.

Jedediah took a deep breath and said firmly, “This is not a conversation to be had while you’re drunk. _Now leave me the hell alone_.”

He tried to duck out under Kahmunrah’s right arm, but he grabbed hold of Jedediah’s shoulders and pressed him back against the tree. Jedediah dropped his boots and socks in shock. Blood pounded through Jedediah’s ears as he fought to remain calm.

Kahmunrah had lost his goofy demeanor. The look he was giving Jedediah was one of pure hunger. He brought his lips close to Jedediah’s ear and whispered, “You know I can take whatever I want.”

It was with that utterance that he took forcefully tilted Jedediah’s head up to press their mouths together.

His right arm now free to move, Jedediah slapped Kahmunrah as hard as he could being in such close proximity. The action startled Kahmunrah enough to make him to stagger backwards a step. Jedediah seized this opportunity to step around him and run. He didn’t bother grabbing his things—he would come back later for them.

Jedediah barely heard Kahmunrah following him over the sound of his own breathing and the crunching of summer-dead grass under his feet. It soon became apparent, though, that trying to outrun Kahmunrah was like trying to outrun the steer he’d angered as a small boy back on his grandfather’s ranch—it wasn’t going to happen. Kahmunrah was just in too good of shape and Jedediah, the opposite.

The tree root was what did it though. Jedediah felt a sharp crack in his ankle, and before he knew it, the ground was rushing to embrace him. The air was knocked out of him as he hit the grass. His mouth tasted of dirt and blood; more stars than could ever be seen on a moonless night on the open prairie danced before his eyes.

He tried to push himself up on his hands but was instead forced to roll over onto his back. A bolt blinding pain shot through his ankle, and his vision momentarily went black. Even in the darkness, he could feel the weight of Kahmunrah straddling his hips. As Jedediah’s vision cleared, he could see the rising and falling of Kahmunrah’s chest. He noted with some satisfaction the angry red outline of a hand on Kahmunrah’s cheek.

Jedediah made to push Kahmunrah only the other man clamped his fingers around Jedediah’s wrists.

“ _Get the fuck off of me, Kamunrah!_ ” he bellowed, making every attempt to be as loud as possible. He cursed himself for wandering so far from the faire.

“Hmm . . . no, I don’t think so,” Kahmunrah replied lazily. 

Jedediah squirmed under him, trying desperately to break Kahmunrah’s grip. It was a futile effort; the years of knight training had given Kahmunrah a tremendous grasp. Jedediah turned his head from side to side as Kahmunrah bent over him.

“This would be so much easier if you would stay still,” he growled.

Jedediah waited a heartbeat and spit in his face. Kahmunrah reeled back without loosening his grip.

“ _Get off of him!_ ” Octavius’s voice was sharp and almost unfamiliar.

Hope flooded through Jedediah as Octavius approached. He grabbed the back of Kahmunrah’s shirt and hauled him off of Jedediah. Kahmunrah attempted to slug Octavius, but Octavius was faster. He dodged the punch and pinned his arms behind him.

Jedediah shakily rose to his feet, and having forgotten his injured ankle, immediately fell back down.

“Aw, _hell_.”

Octavius’s eyes flashed from anger towards Kahmunrah to concern for Jedediah. “Can you walk?”

Jedediah tried and failed once more to put pressure on his ankle. “That’s a ‘no,’ partner.”

Octavius glared at Kahmunrah. “You fucking stay away from Jedediah. Do you understand?” he growled.

“Fine, you little b—“

Octavius wrenched his arm.

“ _Fine_ ,” Kahmunrah spit.

Octavius shoved him away. He stumbled a step before snarling and heading back toward the site of the faire.

Immediately, the anger drained from Octavius’s face. He knelt down beside Jedediah, his brows furrowed with concern. “Did he hurt you?” he asked quietly.

Jedediah worried his lip while doing a mental check of the past few minutes. “No.” He paused, then added in a low whisper, “Not physically, at least.”

Octavius muttered something in Italian Jedediah couldn’t understand before speaking to him again. “What happened to your ankle?”

“I caught it on a root while running. It sure made one awful cracking sound.”

Octavius looked down at Jedediah’s ankles. “Do you think it’s broken?”

Jedediah tried to rotate his ankle and instantly regretted it. “Yes.”

Octavius nodded his head swiftly. “Then I shall carry you.”

As Octavius helped Jedediah stand up, a wave of nausea washed over him. He resumed a position on the ground as his stomach emptied itself of his dinner. Octavius sat down next to him and rubbed his back, murmuring softly.

Jedediah heaved until he was spitting up nothing but bile. He could feel himself shaking and the pain from his injury was becoming more apparent with every passing moment. He took a shuddering breath.

 _It’s okay,_ he told himself.

But it wasn’t. It was anything but okay. He felt small and powerless from what had just happened, and what _could_ have happened if Octavius hadn’t shown up when he did.

Jedediah leaned heavily against Octavius. In response, Octavius wrapped his arms around Jedediah.

“He’s gone,” Octavius whispered into Jedediah’s hair. “You’re going to be okay.”

Tears pricked his eyes. He tried focusing on Octavius’s voice as he continued to whisper reassurances.

The sun began to set before Jedediah found the words to speak up. “Could you—would you stay the night with me?”

Octavius planted a kiss on Jedediah’s temple. “Anything that will help. Do you want to go back now?”

“Yeah, I think so . . . oh, Octavius?”

“Yes, Jedediah dear?”

“I lost my boots a bit upriver during . . . during the scuffle. Would you. . . ?”

Octavius nodded. “Are you okay waiting here?”

 Jedediah frowned. “Be quick.”

“All right.”

Octavius pushed himself off the ground, and Jedediah immediately missed the security Octavius’s arms around him. It, fortunately, took Octavius no time at all to locate Jedediah’s belongings and return. He brought back Jedediah’s hat as well, much to Jedediah’s surprise. (He hadn’t even registered losing it.) Jedediah was able to put a sock and boot on his left foot, however, even the simple movement of putting on a sock sent agonizing pain shooting through his right ankle.

Jedediah gripped his shin and grit his teeth together. He would not cry out.

Octavius helped him to his feet—carefully—and swept Jedediah into his arms bridal-style. Jedediah felt no need to protest this; it wasn’t like he could’ve made it back on his own two feet.

 “Your ankle should be looked at.”

“There isn’t even a hospital in Toulon, Octavius.”

“There’s one in Livonia,” he shot back.

“That’s nearly twenty miles away!” Jedediah exclaimed.

“I am well aware of that.”

Jedediah sighed into Octavius’s chest. He really didn’t want to go to an emergency room that night, on the other hand, he didn’t think he could sleep through the pain and wait to go in the morning.

“Okay,” he conceded. “Got any painkillers?”

“Even better—there’s a first aid kit in my car. There should be plenty of meds in there plus ace bandages we can use to stabilize your ankle.”

Jedediah winced as another bolt of pain shot through his ankle.

“That sounds like a plan, Laredo."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, the "You know I can take whatever I want" line is from The Force Awakens. It felt natural in this scene. Also, the title of this chapter comes from the song "Cool, Clear Water." It too felt appropriate.  
> Oh, and I have actually fractured my ankle, and let me tell you--it ain't fun.  
> ***  
> Thank you so much for reading and leaving kudos and/or comments. Frankly, I have no idea when this will be updated next. However, I really do want to finish it, no matter how long that may take. If you want to stay updated on progress, check out my writing tumblr, greensleeves-archive.


	6. Run to You

_Brrrrrrring! Bring, bring!!!_

Jedediah’s morning alarm—aka, the bane of his existence—went off at precisely seven o’clock jolting him from a sound sleep. Groaning, Jedediah extricated himself from Octavius’s arms to silence it. He laid back down after doing so; Octavius immediately wrapped his arms back around him.

_By Jiminy, how’d I get so lucky?_

“What time is it?” Octavius asked, failing to suppress a yawn.

Jedediah kept his eyes closed. “Seven o’clock.”

A small smile graced Jedediah’s face as Octavius carded his fingers through Jedediah’s hair. “How are you feeling today?”

“In pain. What did you expect?” _Blasted Kahmunrah._

“You know what the doctor said as well as I do, Jed,” Octavius reminded him.

Jedediah huffed. “I know, I know.”

Jedediah’s ankle was, quote, “going to cause him a lot of pain for at least the next two weeks, but as long as he took painkillers and avoided any unnecessary walking, the pain should begin to subside after that,” unquote. It would be another couple of weeks before he’d be able to trade the boot for a brace, and Jedediah was already beginning to hate the thing.

“Do you need to go?” Jedediah asked.

Octavius’s reply mirrored Jedediah’s own thoughts. “Yes, but I don’t want to.”

“We could skip out on the faire today,” he suggested.

“Why stop there? We could run away from it all. Just you and me. We could leave the country, go north to—to—”

“Canada?” Jedediah provided. 

“Yes!” Octavius laughed. “We could go to Canada.”

Jedediah shifted so he was facing his partner, mindful of his injury. Octavius was smiling at him. His big brown eyes were warm and inviting, and Jedediah was beginning to like the idea of running off with him. He leaned in and planted a kiss on Octavius’s lips.

“Maybe some other time.”

They kissed again.

“But we will travel?”

“After the faires are over, Ockie.”

Octavius stifled another yawn. “Now that that’s decided, I really should go. Sacagawea will be none too happy if I leave her to ready Rexy on her own.”

Octavius sat up then and stretched. While he slipped his shirt back on, Jedediah asked him who he would be fighting that day.

“We’re jousting before fighting on foot, so I’m supposed to be pitted against Lancelot on horseback regardless of whoever collects the most points beforehand.”

“So Amelia will be going against Kahmenrah?” he surmised.

Octavius nodded.

“I hope she gives him a sound thrashing.”

Octavius let out a derisive laugh. “She always does when they joust.”

“What about on foot?”

“It can go either way—he is stronger, but she has the added advantage of being lither—although we’re sometimes instructed to let the other person win.”

“Really?” he asked, surprised.

“Yeah. I’m supposed to let Nicky win on foot today. Not that he needs the help.”

Jedediah pushed himself up on his elbows. “How old did you say he was?”

“Eighteen.”

Jedediah pondered this for a moment. “Is that why he never rides?”

“Correct. Lancelot was all for teaching him how to joust this year, but his father wouldn’t hear of it.”

“Well”—Jedediah grinned—“I’ll come cheer you on today even though you are going to lose part of the tournament.”

“I’d like that.” Octavius grinned. “Oh, and we’ve added another task for this faire. It should be entertaining.” Octavius gave Jedediah a peck on the cheek. “Now, do you need anything before I go?”

Jedediah waved a hand dismissively. “Nah, I think I can manage.”

“All right, then, Jed. ‘Til this afternoon.”

“See you, Ockie.”

The smile slipped off of Jedediah’s face after Octavius left. He glared at the boot encasing his fractured ankle.

He did _not_ want to go to work today.

~*~

Later that day, after the knights had paraded around the field, Octavius threw Jedediah a very unsubtle wink. From the squealing that came from afterward, he could only assume that one of the girls sitting behind him had thought it was for her despite the obvious blush creeping up Jedediah’s neck.

As per usual, Jedediah was caught up in the tournament as soon as it began. Neither Lancelot nor Octavius, unfortunately, seemed to be on top of their game today as they both only collected two hoops during the first task. Amelia and Kahmunrah, on the other, managed to snag all four.

 “Now, my esteemed faire-goers,” Ahkmenrah called out to the crowd, “our next competition requires the knights to use their well-honed swordsmanship to hack apart their enemies from horseback.”

 _They’ll be doing what now?_ Jedediah thought, confused. Octavius had said this part would be “entertaining” not bloody.   

It was as though Ahkmenrah had read his mind—or perhaps, the collective mind of the audience. “Their enemies will not be each other—please, none of us are not _that_ savage or bloodthirsty here—but rather cabbages!”

_That makes a mite more sense._

“As you can see, two stakes with impaled cabbages are situated on the two long sides of the arena. I’m sure this is a familiar sight to you Englishman—it’s reminiscent of the London Bridge with the severed heads of traitors proudly displayed on pikes.” He paused. “Too dark?”

Jedediah thought he saw Teddy face palm.

“Moving on—the knights will each get a turn to ride back and forth down one side, and attempt to slice their two cabbages. Each successful attempt will reward them with one point! But enough talk!” Ahkmenrah gestured to his brother. “I don’t think Sir Konstantin would be too upset if we allowed the fair, and may I remind you, ever deadly, Lady Amélie to go first, would you Sir Konstantin?”

Kahmunrah made a small bow from on top of his horse.

Ahkmenrah ginned. “I knew you’d understand. Now, France, cheer on your knight!”

Raising her sword to the chant of “France! France! France!” Amelia spurred her horse on. With one broad stroke, she sliced the first cabbage in two while simultaneously knocking it off the stake. She missed the second cabbage, however, she turned her horse around and charged at it from the opposite direction. Amelia cut it down as easily as she had the first one this time.

“The gallant Lady Amélie has won two points for France!”

Kahmunrah walked his horse into position and waited as the cabbages were replaced.

“Now, Sir Konstantin—show us what you’re made of!”

It was a simple enough phrase, but Jedediah wondered if Ahkmenrah hadn’t deliberately worded that sentence as such.

That being said, if the cabbages had been people, they would have been killed twice over. With precise strokes, Kahmunrah managed to slice off the top halves of both of the cabbages on his first pass while leaving them on the stakes. On his second pass, he cut both of them again.

The German section of the crowd roared with applause and a smattering of huzzahs.

Ahkmenrah stared pointedly from the cabbages to his brother. “I am moving as far away from Germany as possible. That is an astounding four points to Sir Konstantin of Germany!”  

Once the crowd had quieted down, Ahkmenrah announced that Octavius would be riding next.

“Sir Octavio, make it known that you are not just debonair, but you are a sportsman as well!”

Tilly once again led the chant as Octavius readied his steed. Jedediah watched as his partner chopped down the first cabbage with ease. He let out a groan as the second cabbage fell off the stake as Octavius struck it.

_Looks like he’s not beating ramen noodle today._

Seemingly unperturbed, Octavius swung his horse around and sliced apart his first cabbage again. Jedediah huzzahed mightily along with Tilly.

“Now that is more like the Sir Octavio we know and love!” Ahkmenrah lauded. “Three points to Sir Octavio and Spain!”

Octavius tilted his head to Spanish section, accepting their applause.

“Lastly, were these enemies standing between Sir Lancelot and his Lady Guinevere, I can assure you ladies and gentlemen, they’d already be slain. Let’s hear it for Sir Lancelot du Lac!”

Lancelot charged, his honey-gold hair trailing behind him. He sliced both cabbages cleanly in half, however, both fell to the ground in the process. The English sectioned was split between groaning and cheering.

Ahkmenrah put a hand on his hip. “Look, Sir Lancelot, you may become a legendary figure someday if you keep at it, but this has just not been your day. You have won England two more points!” Ahkmenrah allowed Lancelot to accept his applause before continuing on. “Now we move on to our joust. Sir Konstantin, as you have accumulated the most points of our knights, you may decide who you will be jousting with.”

Jedediah could hardly wait to see Amelia best Kahmunrah.

Kahmunrah didn’t seem to agree; he instead shouted out “Sir Octavio!”

Ahkmenrah tried to regain control of the situation. “The French are much more worthy opponents, wouldn’t you say?”

With a shake from Kahmunrah’s head, a knot of worry settled in Jedediah’s stomach. From where he was sitting, Jedediah couldn’t be sure, but it looked as though Ahkmenrah had slumped forward.

“All right, then. The rules are simply that whoever strikes their opponent’s shield first is the winner! Good luck to both of you.”

Ahkmenrah drew back to the edge of the arena as Octavius and Kahmunrah got into position. Octavius had already donned his helmet and was accepting his lance from Sacagawea. On the other end of the arena, Kahmunrah approached the proper position to begin the joust. Octavius gathered the reins in his hand and went to his starting position as well. As soon as the two knights had their lances lowered, they charged.

Kahmunrah’s horse kicked up grass behind it as Octavius and his steed, Rexy, matched their speed. The crowd waited with bated breath for the sound of lance-meeting-shield, yet it never came. Octavius and Kahmunrah passed by each other without incident. 

Jedediah let out a shaky breath. _It’s just an act,_ he reminded himself. _Octavius is going to be fine._ His mind traitorously thought back to what had happened to Ahkmenrah while jousting with his brother. His fingers gripped the edge of his set. _He’s going to be_ fine _._

Octavius and Kahmunrah had turned their horses around and leveled their lances once again. They spurred their steeds forward for a second pass.

He watched with an ever-growing sense of horror as Rexy faltered and Octavius lost his grip on his shield. The fear and anger from last night’s encounter with Kahmunrah came rushing back through Jedediah as Octavius too late tried to bring his shield back up into position; Kahmunrah’s lance struck him directly in the chest.  

Shocked gasps echoed throughout the stands. It was unclear whether he or the girl sitting behind him was the one who screamed. Though, Jedediah could’ve sworn his heart stopped beating as Octavius lost his place on the saddle and fell to the ground with a loud clanging of his armor.

He didn’t move.

Jedediah forwent his crutches and was out of his seat and to the fence as quickly as he could manage without them, his blood rushing hot through his veins. He ducked through the fence with minor difficulties and hobbled his way to Octavius’s side. Ahkmenrah hurried over and grabbed his arm, yet he helped him toward Octavius instead of trying to stop him. He let go of his arm, which allowed Jedediah to sink down to the ground next to Octavius.

Sacagawea was already kneeling beside Octavius. She ever so gently removed his helmet and checked his pulse and breathing. She closed her eyes momentarily, collecting herself.

“Tilly!” she said.

The favor-selling woman snapped to attention.

“Call an ambulance. His pulse is fine, but his breathing is irregular. He may have damaged ribs.”

“I’m on it.” Tilly pulled out a smartphone from a small bag attached to her belt and began dialing.

“Should we move him?” Jedediah whispered. He wanted to do something, _anything_ , instead of just sitting around waiting for an ambulance.

“No,” Scagawea replied. “Disturbing him could make matters worse.”

Jedediah nodded. Numbly, he took Octavius’s hand in his.

Tilly returned. “An ambulance is on its way.”

Looking upon the face of his unconscious partner made Jedediah’s blood cool down. A damp mist seemed to settle over Jedediah, filling his ears with static and his thoughts with fog. He heard Ahkmenrah as if from a great distance tell the spectators that everything was going to be all right and that the tournament would resume shortly. From across the arena, Jedediah could see Teddy talking to Kahmunrah. Jedediah couldn’t make out any words, but by the way the older gentleman’s hands were fisted by his sides, it was no challenge to discern what was being said.

The bolt of anger that shot through him at the sight of Kahmunrah was enough to cut through the fog in his mind and allowed his anger to return. He had an urge to confront Kahmunrah right then and there—even with a fractured ankle—but that would require leaving Octavius, and he couldn’t force himself to do that.

 _That pole cat is a problem for another time_ , he thought.

Octavius’s eyelids fluttered. Jedediah gripped his hand more firmly as Octavius groaned.

“Octavius, can you hear me?” Sacagawea asked.

Octavius mumbled, “Mmm . . .  sì.” He tried moving his head, but Sacagawea stopped him.

“Octavius, don’t try to move,” she ordered.

He opened his eyes a fraction. “Jed?” he whispered.

Jedediah made sure he was positioned in Octavius’s field of vision. “I’m here, partner. Ol’ Tilly’s called an ambulance for you.”

Closing his eyes, Octavius squeezed Jedediah’s hand by way of responding. Jedediah squeezed his hand back. Their quixotic conversation about traveling felt like it had taken place weeks before and not that very same morning.

The ambulance arrived shortly; Jedediah stood back while the medics moved Octavius into the ambulance. Sacagawea hovered around monitoring the situation. Jedediah approached her.

“Are you going to go with him, then?” he asked her.

She nodded. “He needs someone who knows his medical history. Do you have a cell phone on you?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Let me see it.” She held out her hand and Jedediah handed her his phone. After messing around, she handed it back. “There—I’ll call you as soon as there’s any news.”

“Thanks, Sacagawea.”

She squeezed his arm. Her light tone didn’t quite reach her eyes as she spoke. “He’ll be fine, Jed.”

_I certainly hope so._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It started off happy, and then it all went downhill, lol.


	7. Delphinium

4:17 pm, one text message from Sacagawea:

_Hi, Jedediah, it’s Sacagawea. We’ve arrived at the hospital. I’ll keep you posted._

That’d been an hour ago. He hadn’t heard anything more since then. No news may be good news, he thought dejectedly, but it certainly was leaving him anxious.

“ _Jedediah._ ” McPhee’s shrill voice broke into Jedediah’s melancholy thoughts.

Jedediah’s head snapped up from his phone. McPhee was staring at him. “Sorry, McPhee. What were you saying?”

McPhee sighed. “Jedediah, why don’t you leave early today?”

“Really?” he asked, taken aback. McPhee never let him or Rebecca leave early.

“’Really,’” he said, putting air quotes around the word. “And you needn’t come in tomorrow if you don’t feel up to it.”

“Confused” was not sufficient enough of a word to describe how Jedediah was feeling. “Pardon. . . ?”

Exasperated he said, “Jedediah, regardless of what you think of me, I am human too.” He continued in a gentler tone, “Rebecca told me what happened.”

Rebecca had noticed immediately that something was up when he came back after the accident; he’d filled her in on what had gone down at the tournament. Being the kind of person she was, Jedediah wasn’t surprise that she had told their boss. He appreciated it, though—he couldn’t have told McPhee himself.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” McPhee awkwardly clapped him on the shoulder.

Maneuvering around the table was a tricky task, but Jedediah managed to trade places with McPhee with no incident. He waved goodbye to Rebecca who was attempting to get a crying little girl out of a dress her mother had laced up incorrectly. She returned his wave while continuing to talk calmly to the girl.

Exiting the Royal Weaver, Jedediah turned to the left to make his way to the vendors’ entrance. On a whim, he decided to go visit the area where the horses were let to pasture. He’d always had a soft spot for horses, and maybe he’d run into someone with some word about Octavius.

It took him five minutes or so to reach the makeshift corral. Ahkmenrah was there feeding one of the horses sugar cubes. He beckoned Jedediah over.

“Hello, there,” Ahkmenrah said, petting the long face of the horse.

“Howdy.” Jedediah wasn’t quite sure what to say to him. They’d only talked in passing before.

“Have you heard anything about Octavius yet?” Ahkmenrah asked.

“I was thinking of asking you the same thing.”

He stopped adoring the horse to smile kindly at Jedediah. “Well, you know what they say—“

“—no news is good news, I know,” Jedediah grumbled.

Ahkmenrah went back to petting the horse. “Even if he can’t ride for a while, he’ll be okay.”

Jedediah rubbed the back of his neck. “I keep telling myself that, yet . . .”

“He’s still going to be the same Octavius you love whether he can ride as a knight or not after this,” Ahkmenrah said gently.

Jedediah couldn’t help but wonder what Ahkmenrah himself had been like before his own jousting incident. Was he the excited, wide-eyed announcer or the quieter young man who apparently enjoyed feeding horses sugar? Or had he been someone else entirely? 

Regardless of who he had been before, Jedediah was hoping he was right about Octavius. He wished Sacagawea would give him a call so he could find out.

As if that wish had had made it so, Jedediah’s phone went off. Quick as lightning, he answered it. “Hello?”

“Hey, Jedediah, it’s Sacagawea!”

Ahkmenrah raised an eyebrow at him, and Jedediah mouthed, “It’s Sacagawea.”

“I’ve got some good news: Octavius was fully conscious and responsive on arrival and is now sleeping.”

Jedediah let out a shaky breath and smiled. “That’s great, Sacagawea.”

“Yes, that is,” she said shortly, “but they want to keep him under observation for a few days. He has two broken ribs and one of them is dangerously close to puncturing one of his lungs.”

His smile fell. _Hell._

“The doctors aren’t allowing any other visitors until tomorrow.”

 “That makes sense, I s’pose.” _I know where I’m going tomorrow,_ he thought. He asked Sacagawea if she’d send the address of the hospital to him after they finished talking. It was most likely the one Octavius had taken him to for his ankle, but he sure couldn’t remember how they’d gotten there.

“Of course, Jed; I’m sure Octavius will be delighted to see you especially since I’ll have to return to the faire tomorrow. I really should go now, however, on the off chance you see Ahk, would you ask him not to give Rexy any sugar? He likes to spoil the horses.”

Jedediah side-eyed Ahkmenrah. “Sure thing, Sacagawea. Thanks for calling.”

“No problem. Take care.”

“Bye.”

Jedediah hung up the call. He relayed all that Sacagawea had told him about Octavius’s condition and also her request.

Ahkmenrah held a finger to his lips. “What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

Jedediah nodded seriously. “She won’t find out from me.”

Ahkmenrah laughed. “She won’t need to.” He brushed off his hands. “I think I’ll head back to camp now. Would you care to join the remainder of the knights and me for dinner? We’re only cooking at the campsite, but I figured you might want some company.”

Jedediah brightened. “I sure would.” Otherwise, he’d be eating alone, what with Rebecca living in Toulon.

As they made their way around the horse trailers next to the corral, they ran into Kahmunrah and Teddy. They appeared to be having a serious conversation.

“Kahmunrah, I have just finished discussing matters over with your father.” Teddy ignored the eye roll sent his way when he mentioned Merenkahre. With decisive finality he said, “Your culpable behavior has not only lost you much of his favor, it has also lost you a job. You will not be participating in any more of the knights’ performances. Pack your bags.”

Ahkmenrah and Jedediah exchanged glances. “ _Wow_ ,” mouthed Ahkmenrah.

“Fine, if that’s the way _Father_ wills it,” Kahmunrah sneered.

He began marching off before catching sight of Ahkmenrah and Jedediah. He turned to face Jedediah. “You know, if your poor _boyfriend_ doesn’t recover properly—“

Jedediah didn’t give him a chance to finish his proposition. All of the pent up anger he felt toward this poor excuse for a human being came rushing out as he swung out with his fist and clipped Kahmunrah in the jaw.

“That’s for Octavius,” he spat. _I sure hope it hurt your jaw as much as it hurt my hand_.

Kahmunrah was shocked into stillness; Teddy didn’t say a word. Jedediah tucked his crutches under his arms to resume his and Ahkmenrah’s journey to the camp area.  

“Now wait one minute—“ Kahmunrah grabbed his arm.

In one fluid motion, Jedediah wrenched his arm away and swept his crutch behind Kahmunrah’s knees. He fell to the ground in a heap. “And that,” Jedediah said looking down at him, “was from _me_.”

Teddy applauded. Ahkmenrah let out a low whistle, and proclaimed, “Five points to Sir Jedediah!”

Clearly defeated, Kahmunrah got up and sulked off. Jedediah watched him go through squinted eyes.

Ahkmenrah clapped his hands together. “Well, I don’t know about you two gentlemen, but I’m starving!”

~*~

Outside door 132 of the Livonia general hospital, Jedediah hesitated. He’d never visited anybody in a hospital before, and he was beginning to wonder if the bouquet of yellow roses and blue larkspurs he had bought were appropriate. He had texted Sacagawea when he showed up to avoid having to ask someone at the front desk where Octavius’s room was. He thought she would still be there as it was still early morning and she needn’t be back at the faire until noon. He hadn’t seen her at all in the hospital, though.

Jedediah raised his fist and knocked (which was a mistake on his part—his knuckles still hurt from yesterday’s punch).

“Come in!”

Jedediah opened the door to see Octavius sitting upright in the bed watching something on tv. His hair was disheveled, and he was wearing a hospital gown. Making his way through the doorway into the room was a tricky task as Jedediah was still using the crutches and that also made it difficult to hold onto the plastic bag the flowers were in. Too late he wondered if Octavius might be allergic to the bouquet he’d brought. Instead of voicing this concern, he greeted his partner. “Hello, Octavius.”

Octavius looked at him, eyes wide with surprise. “Jedediah! What are you doing here?”

Jedediah’s eyebrows knitted together. “Didn’t Sacagawea tell you I was coming?”

“No. She merely said she needed to get back to the faire before scampering off. I would’ve combed my hair if I had known you were coming.”

Jedediah let out a small laugh. “Your hair is fine, Ockie.”

Octavius smiled. “Thanks, Jed. Now, I know you didn’t come all this way to talk about my hair. Why don’t you pull up a seat?”

Jedediah set his crutches aside and pulled the one extra chair in the room next to the bed. “Oh, these are for you,” he said, removing the flowers from the bag. (Thankfully, they looked no worse for wear.)

Octavius’s face lit up. “Is that larkspur?” he asked while taking the bouquet.

“Um, yeah, I reckon so,” Jedediah replied, trying to recall what the florist at the grocery store had told him—something about the larkspur representing love and affection and yellow roses being a general wish for well-being.

“They’re my favorite flower!”

“Really?” Oh, he’d gotten lucky.

“Indeed, they have a very interesting story.”

Jedediah asked him what that story happened to be, and Octavius managed to go on a twenty minute spiel about how it was the flower that sprung up from Ajax’s blood when he died. Also, it apparently was also the flower that Apollo turned Hyakinthos into after he was killed by his jealous lover Zephyr, the god of the west wind even though the flower before him wasn’t named after Hyakinthos. Jedediah was impressed with Octavius’s botanical and mythological knowledge, if not a bit confused as he himself was rusty on his mythology, and he couldn’t see why someone would kill the person they loved even if they were paying attention to someone else. It seemed like a really convoluted way to show affection.

When Octavius finally ran out of steam, Jedediah asked the question he’d been putting off. “How are you doing?”

Octavius shifted restlessly and stifled a yawn. “Not too bad. . . .”

Jedediah raised an eyebrow.

“I have to stay here for a few days. The doctor doesn’t trust that this one rib will stay in place and not puncture my lung. She also made it clear that I shouldn’t ride for at least two months and then no jousting until all the pain is gone.” He made a face like this didn’t sit well with him.

Jedediah took his hand. “Octavius, that’s great. You’re going to be back at it in no time.”

Octavius squeezed his hand. “I hope so. How are they getting along without me?”

“Well, ramen noodle—Kahmunrah—got fired by his ol’ man, so they’re short two knights instead of one. Teddy told me they would combine Germany and Spain for today’s tournament.”

Octavius yawned while nodding. “They make a good team, Teddy and Sacagawea.”

Jedediah agreed. “Ockie,” he said, noticing Octavius yawning again, “how long have you been up?”

“Oh, since four am.”

“ _Since four?_ ”

“Yes, four—I was pumped full of so many painkillers yesterday afternoon that I slept straight through the evening and on through the night.”

“Do you want me to leave so you can sleep?” he asked, sitting upright in his chair.

“No, please, stay.” Octavius tugged on his hand.

He relaxed back into his chair. “Whatever you want, Ockie.”

They talked amiably about a variety of topics before flipping through the channels on the tv. Jedediah could see Octavius drifting off even as he tried to stay focused on Gordon Ramsay’s cooking. Octavius’s hand went limp in his; he’d finally drifted off to sleep.

Jedediah planted a kiss on his forehead.

Octavius smiled, his eyes still closed. Sleepily, he whispered, “I love you, Jedediah.”

“I love you, too, Octavius.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that wasn't too angsty, was it? :)


	8. Epilogue: Ever After

“Our next knight is Sir Octavio! Legend has it, he once tamed a wild stallion, and then rode it into battle to save his true love—who just so happens to be sitting in the Spanish section today!” Ahkmenrah happily pointed to Jedediah while those in the crowd let out “aww”s or applause. 

Jedediah held his head up and waved his hand, happily showing off his engagement ring. He’d gotten used to Ahkmenrah’s (and all of the knights’) teasing over the past couple of years and took it in stride.

He cheered on his fiancé as Octavius rode out onto the field with Sacagawea at his side. They were back in Brookden for the first faire of the season, and Jedediah had promised Octavius that he wouldn’t miss it. He and Octavius exchanged waves as the knights came to a stop in front of the Spanish section. 

The rest of the knights paraded in two by two along with Ahkmenrah’s commentary. He’d gone all out this year, giving each knight a bit of a backstory.

“The first dragon this young lad slayed happened to have nine heads! He has only recently begun jousting, so let’s show Sir Nicholas some support!”

Indeed, Nicky was taking his turn on horse-back for the first time today, and if the practice tournaments Jedediah had watched were anything to go by, he stood a fair chance of winning.

The tournament started and young Nicky did, in fact, take the lead right at the start, but Octavius quickly gathered enough points to call out who he wanted to go against in the joust.

“Lady Amélie!”

Octavius and Amelia readied their horses to charge. On the count of three, they were off.

“Spain! Spain! Spain!”

The sound of Octavius’s lance striking Amelia’s shield reverberated through the arena; Jedediah led the cheer from the Spanish section.

The tournament continued on with Nicky defeating Teddy in their joust. On the ground, however, he was easily bested by Kahmunrah’s replacement, Attila, and his longsword. Sacagawea and Amelia were a dangerous whirlwind of daggers and bucklers. Sacagawea was nearly nicked in the arm by Amelia’s blade but recovered quickly and pinned her to the ground. Lancelot and Teddy battled in a near dance-like pattern. It was mesmerizing how they mirrored each other’s movements until Teddy finally broke through and struck Lancelot. Finally, Octavius faced down Custer, broadsword against broadsword, the clash of metal sending cheers through the stands. Custer let his guard down long enough for Octavius to disarm him. Every defeat and victory brought subsequent boos and cheers.

Ahkmenrah announced the winner once all the knights were finished battling. “Well, esteemed faire-goers, we appear to be at the end of our little tournament! By a three point lead, Spain has won! Congratulations, Lady Serafina and Sir Octavio!”

Jedediah sprang up from his seat and huzzahed.

The crowd quieted down soon enough allowing Ahkmenrah to make it known that the knights would be hanging around to answer questions and take photos.

Jedediah strode up to the fence where Octavius was standing with Rexy and talking to a group of people. After the visitors left, he leaned his hip against the fence nonchalantly.

“So,” Jedediah said teasingly, "Was that planned, or did you actually win by talent today?”

“It was all talent, I assure you. Some of that talent just happened to be pre-determined.”

Jedediah rolled his eyes causing Octavius to grin. “You really were great, Ockie.”

“Better than last summer?”

Jedediah thought back to the previous summer; even with his ribs healed, Octavius hadn’t gotten his groove back until the very last weekend. “Much better than last summer.”

Octavius brushed his hand along Jedediah’s cheek before kissing him. Jedediah pulled back.

“Even if you weren’t, you’d still be my knight in shining arming,” Jedediah murmured.

Octavius leaned in so their foreheads touched. “Jedediah?”

“Yeah?”

“Even with broken bones and tattered clothes, I will always be your knight in shining arming.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe this is it, guys. I've spent over two years on this fic, and it's over. Wow. ;.;  
> Thank you so much to everyone who's been reading this as I posted it and to all of you who just now found it! Your support means so much to me; I probably wouldn't have finished this except for the comments that I got from you all. That being said, please do leave a comment and tell me what you think! All feedback is welcome! :)


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